Postponing Poems

AS LONG AS THE WIND STILL BLOWS

As long as the wind still blows
His words will still reecho
In the dreams we forget when we wake
In the thoughts that dip and surface.

"Africa must unite
We have the resources
We have the manpower
Only unity remains"

These words will fly with the Monsoon
Across the plains of South Sudan, Cameroon
Climb the hills of DR Congo, walk the lonely deserts of Libya
Drift through the woods of Mozambique, through Ethiopia’s.

They will reecho in Somalia’s savannah
Breathe through the Sahel, Nigeria’s deep oil fields
Flow with the Yenge River of Sierra Leone
Until we hold them close, and call them our own.

And maybe then, in silent knowing
We’ll find the meaning we kept postponing.

Homeward

My spirits are crushing -
Anxiety, blushing,
Giving words to depression's dissertation.

And in activity, haunting -
The threat is there, taunting,
Praying for a moment's isolation.

Through the journeys I'm hiding -
An escape that I'm striving,
Postponing that self aggravation.

But with darkness, approaching -
Lost minutes to poaching,
Coming home, the last destination.

The People I’d Like to Know

Can someone give me the email of someone I’d like to know?
So I can send them my regards
then watch our effortless correspondence.

Could someone pass on the number of the people I’d like to know?
I can ring them day or night,
always postponing the half hour hang up ritual.

By tomorrow, I’d like a letter on my desk
from a person I’d like to know.

Folded with creases 
Opening it like a game of pass the parcel
Written on torn paper
Several notes sweep out and slide
Away from me
The people I’d like to know

Could the person I’d like to know give me a wave when we pass on the street?
I’ll wave back, I promise.
If you want more consider looking elsewhere
for the people you’d like to know.

I got the runs

The juices are flowing
Out my butt it’s flowing
The stink surely is growing
The end is near i am hoping
The poos are floating
As they keep going
I begin to wonder will it ever stop exploding
For the pain has me moaning
On my phone diagnosing
The research is undergoing
My ignorance is showing
For I don’t know why my butt is unloading
The doctor call i continue postponing
As my juices stay a flowing…

On the Rocks Chanco

"On the rocks?", the bartender called,
As I asked for a double Scotch,
To revive my spirits keel-hauled.
By my sleepy shift on night-watch.

On the rocks the liquid gold poured
Making the cold hard ice cubes clink.
Drowner of sorrows, now on board,
Dismay was dragged back from the brink.

On the rocks the ship did flounder
With no stormy tempest in sight,
With watch asleep, the rocks found her,
Not at night, but in broad daylight.

On the rocks now, the storms will rage,
Mercilessly blasting their might,
Building seas, to roaring rampage,
Defying quaffs to set things right.

On the rocks, becalmed distraction
Leaves sails flapping, wanting a breeze
Postponing the need for action,
To get relief and be at ease.

On the rocks, cold as cubes of ice,
Enticing Scotch will not suffice.

R I P

I didn't get to know You, Milt, I now regret 
Postponing reading soup's delights with "not just yet".

Drowned in a busy whirlpool, lost in mundane maze, 
Wish I followed Your work that set PS ablaze. 

Wish I engraved Your graceful gifts in my mind -
Your poignant, subtle, warm-hearted take on mankind.

I'll read Your poems as a consolation prize, 
To envision the world - You cherished - through Your eyes.


January 1, 2023

Every Bum In Our Slum

I know like a solvable sum
Every Samson’s riddle bum
Roaming our banal slum
Besides my tricky chum
With his insincere dum-dum–dum!
Not in his favor
His ear- assaulting chewing gum,
A thing to not savor
His disquieting rum…

If not slapping some drum,
Strangers asking where they came from,
Glowering at the seemingly dumb. 
Sometimes, touching tunes does hum 
But with a face decidedly glum
And not infrequently hitting his mum
For recklessly postponing his plum.

.

The Way One Lives

The one who eats
doesn't do none than feed
his wolves pack...
The one who drinks,
quenches the thirst of his
inner rivers...
The one who dreams,
crosses his  inner world
 and arrives where
he doesn't wait...
One who thinks
travels in itself
cleaning up dirt
brightening dark
setting purposes...
He who shuts up, grinds
the unspoken words and
 forms crystals of ideas...
He who lives thus,
is always postponing death... !

Mental Injury Is Not Mental Illness Essential To Know

14 years confused on a pitch without the goals 
never knowing how I fell through so many holes 
as each I fell through another would unfold 
the brain just couldn't process storing in the vault
to later analyse and process the result 
but storage overflowed and the circuit cut short 
a breakdown stopped their process postponing the report 
the brain was overwhelmed from continuous assault 
it's called a mental breakdown retreat from the revolt
rebooting only vital zones and limiting your thoughts 
thanks to overwhelming stress continuous and cold 
flight or fight for too long sees hormones flood the skull 
changing how the mind works and the person on the whole 
misdiagnosed depression through symptoms it unrolls 
but rain floods are not a sea these hormones will dissolve 
psychiatric injury doesn't stay until you're old 
it's not a mental illness that doctor can't solve 
injuries repair themselves, a bruise a scar a hole 
people caused your pain, don't let them be involved

Red Green and Blue

Red grows politically angry
about wealthy society's conspiracy
to keep my ego away
from health's abundant wealth.

Blue spreads out
economically fearful of anger's power,
my own loss of leftbrain control,
most times less,
sometimes more
than terrifying competitive victory,
unhealthy monopolization
of light and power,
wealth accumulated
by neglecting 
postponing
preempting HaveNot wishes,
accelerating  Earth abusive investments
of a powerful
and punishing
highly narcissistic
inhumane
pissed off
judgmentally quivering society,
blatantly unsustainable.

Green ecological relationships
remain hopeful
the conjunction of two polarizing
paralyzing negatives,
anger and fear,
like two negatives
equaling a positive,
will produce healthier wealth,

Not more political envy
and economic greed;
but heavenly peace
through nonviolent EarthJustice.

The March

The March

The best-designed plans 
have the tendency 
to not materialize.
Plan B and plan C 
is the smoke of despair.
Overcoming obstacles, 
try a new plan again
that doesn´t include 
a third individual.
Postponing your journey 
until the sunlit days
turn into fog and 
a miasma of precipitation.
It rains on your parade
the triumph of the will
not yours 
has won.

The Kick It Ticket

not easily dissuaded
but recently persuaded
to oscillate in ways
living my lingering days

all bets are off
often I have scoffed
demeaning my demise
postponing I trivialize

I have a list to ask
prioritized by task
listings I'll conceive
or perhaps believe

would homelessness set me free 
reality does not deceive
or should I ponder yonder 
while continuing to wander

the bucket I shall kick it
for my Savior is the ticket
it’s become clear to me
it's Glory I need to see

Winter Is Hanging On

It's just another rainy, gloomy day,
there are few signs that Spring is on Her way.
Today is much the same as yesterday,
sunshine and flowers seem so far away
and playgrounds are lacking children at play.

Salmon aren't yet swimming upstream to spawn,
although bears count on this phenomenon.
It's a sign that Winter is hanging on,
and all hopes of an early Spring are gone.

We're experiencing a chilly rain
that subsequently turns to snow again,
thanks to climate change, the weather's insane.

Global warming could be postponing Spring,
it seems to be affecting everything.

But I pray to God that it isn't so.

We will need to persevere, though it's May,
let's hope Spring's merely late and not withdrawn.
It hasn't arrived yet; that much is plain,
but the weather can be a tricky thing
and I'm hoping any day Spring will show.


(Minuanetta)


05,15,2019

Too Late

To make amends,
to soothe hurts with a vow,
the most opportune time,
my friend, is now.

Postponing kindness,
we hesitantly  wait.
Tomorrow, as always
comes too late.

Thy Promise

Keep postponing the inevitable
The price indelible on our psych
May be let it all just burn down
Tumble down in ashes..
Should that we let it all end..

To what gain then shall it be
Your delight still in their sons
Your joy in the sons of men
So is there a price too steep
Should U let it all end..

What hope for the unborn
The ones still in diapers
Unable to fathom the truth
Them darkening waters

The sacred promise
Glory of Zion..
Gateway to the first
Settlement.. 
Banks of river Gihon

Pilgrims shedding tears of Joy
A sight be-folding a city of promise
New Jerusalema.. will it ever be

Should I let it all burn.
Dream turn to ashes..
Gates shutting.. 
Pillars splitting
Fires re lighting
Ushering in Judgement.

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